Left Unspoken
by Fade131
Summary: Sometimes the most obvious things are the words we never say.  Originally posted 10.4.2006


**Author's Note:** Written for my AP Writing class as my narrative piece. We wrote a different piece for every "style" of writing and I succeeded in only writing ONE non-fanfiction story. it was my finest hour. xD

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A little girl in an elaborate black Victorian dress stands across from Cain at the interment, her dark hair falling thick around her face and obscuring her eyes. Despite this, he can still see the fascinated way in which she watches the priest as he recites Scripture and bless the coffin. Her manner is familiar, but it is not for several minutes that Cain realizes who she is: Emmeline, the sister of one of his friends. He wonders where her brother is, and a quick glance finds Gilford and their parents a few paces away, carefully planned masks of sorrow and pity stretching their features. He wishes that they had not come.

Cain does not want to be here, standing across from this girl as is mother's coffin is lowered into the grave. If they knew the truth of it, the Rotterdales would have kept their precious children far away from him. He was a sin, an abomination, and he should never have been born. He waits quietly as the other funeral-goers leave, saying soft words to his father as they all walk away. He does not move, himself. He watches, absorbed, as the gravediggers begin to shovel dirt onto the coffin.

A soft noise makes him look up, and his gold-green eyes lock with Emmeline's as she tiptoes around the grave to stand by his side. Her parents are walking slowly towards the church, her brother following a step or two behind. She ignores them, taking Cain's hand lightly in hers. Her fingers are thin and warm against his, and he finds it odd that she is being so kind to him. After all, the last time they spoke he insulted her because of her looks; most children – especially girls – would not forgive such things. She doesn't seem to notice his confusion, her large eyes once again directed elsewhere. Her brother turns to see that she isn't following them, and yells something back. She stares at him until he shrugs and turns away.

Her hand tightens around his almost imperceptibly, and then she is pulling him into a hug. Cain doesn't return the embrace. He has the feeling that if he does, he will start to cry, and he can't do that. She lets him go delicately, but leaves their hands entwined. She is staring at him, now. For only the second time in their acquaintance, she speaks.

"I… I'm sorry, Cain."

It wasn't until a while later that he realized the soft brush of sensation against his cheek had been her lips, right before she ran down the hill after her family, picking up her skirt so the hem wouldn't catch underfoot and trip her. She looked strangely fitting against the shadowy landscape – as Cain thought he must, as well – a pudgy little girl in a dress so fancy it looked as if she were playing dress-up in her mother's clothes, rushing headlong down hill covered in headstones towards a large church, with the dreary English countryside stretching out behind her, monotonous and dark with clouds.

He stayed there for a long time, even after the gravediggers had finished their job and gone. A hand on his shoulder brought him to his senses as his butler, Riff, turned him gently towards the path and led him home without a word.

Years later, after having put the whole event from his mind, Cain found himself revisiting that sad tableau. He was now engaged to be married to Emmeline, who seemed for all the world as though she hated him for the cruel things he had said of her so long ago. Thinking back on the funeral, he wondered at her attitude. It wasn't long before he caught her alone, walking in the garden. He asked her if she remembered the day, and after a moments' hesitation, she responded with a slight nod of the head. Cain sighed and caught her hand in his.

"Emmeline… do you remember what you truly meant to say?"

She stared at him for some time, her pretty face blank. He tried not to think of how much she had changed in so short a time – she was thin and beautiful now, and would have been considered a prize by any gentleman.

"I do not believe that is any of your business, milord."

She spoke with such finality. He relented quietly, and they continued to walk in peace. Her hand was just as he had remembered it, and as they walked he thought back on his memories of her and knew exactly what she had meant to say, even though they had both been mere children at the time. He knew precisely what she carefully kept herself from saying now.

It was mere weeks later when he identified her corpse at the morgue, quietly telling the policeman who had found her that yes, this was Emmeline Rotterdale, his fiancée. She was the latest of Jack the Ripper's victims, killed as a sacrifice to keep a dead woman alive, to help satiate Jezebel's desire for blood and pain. He swore he'd have revenge, even though he had not felt for her as she might have wished.

_"I… I love you, Cain."_


End file.
